


Price

by Subtle_Shenanigans



Series: Dissassociation [26]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Chase is not a full-blown alcoholic, Concept, Doing the Wrong Thing for the Right Reasons, Don’t copy to another site, Drabble, Emotional pain, FREAKING HELL NOT AGAIN, Gen, I dunno just roll with it lol, I dunno maybe Robbie will pop up, Manipulation, Not as harsh Anti, Song Inspired, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Whump, Wow this completely change from my original concept, accidental manipulation?, at least that’s how he perceives it, lowkey manipulation?, mentions of depression, no beta we die like men, not fully fleshed our idea, puppet but not possessed, trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-10-11 14:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17448449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subtle_Shenanigans/pseuds/Subtle_Shenanigans
Summary: There was never any need for possession or pain.After all, family was everything.right?((Unfinished; will be finishing at a later date!!))





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is just a Drabble idea that I got when listening to “Blood//Water” by
> 
> I dunno; it’s not fully coherent but I may write a follow up if anyone is interested.
> 
> No idea how to write Chase. Plus, this seemed like a good idea at the time, but *shrug*.
> 
> Friendly reminder that Chase is technically American and Anti is Irish.

     Chase wakes up, groaning against the early morning light.

    He rubs at his eyes - they’re sore and dry from another night of crying pathetically.

    He flops back down.

    Did he  _really_ have to get up today?

    Chase stares at the ceiling blankly, despondently. There was no work today - his crew were taking a break while the channel was on hiatus - and his brothers were all busy with their own occupations. And he couldn’t pick up his kids, since-

    Well, the papers were still going through in court, and while it would most likely rule in favor of Chase’s request, it would be another few months before he could see them again.

    Gosh, he hated her.

     (He didn't.)

    The thought of just forgetting everything nagged at the corner of his mind, as did the urge to go back to sleep.

    He fought the urge to go out and buy alcohol; during the first few weeks following the divorce, when Chase had been forced to move into a barely furnished apartment (which he still kept mostly bare), he had gotten completely and utterly drunk, twice. He wouldn’t lie; It had been easier, to be numb and hazy, than to deal with the pain.

    But if Chase were to win his appeal, then he would be getting the kids on and off again, and he wasn’t about to ruin that chance. He had immediately dumped out every last bit of alcohol in his house, save vanilla and almond extract for cooking, in order to avoid the temptation.

    He’s pulled from his thoughts as his phone rings, blaring a ringtone he hasn’t heard in _months_. He lifts it up to see that it’s not a call, but a FaceTime request. _From Stacy._

    Chase’s hand trembles and his breath hitches. He’s choking on emotion, caught between heavy grief on the past, and sudden fear for his kids. Because he knows - oh, he knows - Stacy is not calling for reconciliation nor apologies. The only thing could be the kids.

    He sits up abruptly and answers immediately at that thought.

    Stacy’s face fills the screen; long, wavy blond hair and blue-green eyes that glint with tears. Her brow is furrowed, and she’s about to snarl, but Chase beats her to the punch.

    “ _What happened?_ ”

     If she’s taken aback my his firm tone, she doesn’t show it. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

    “What. Happened.”

    He’s angry now; worried. Stacy searches his gaze and finding truth, eventually slumps. She answers.

    “They went missing. They - we - Tom and I left, for less than an hour. We figured Bri could watch Grey. When we got home they were gone.”

    “Police?”

     “Tom’s talking to them now. I-“ he voice drops, quivers. “I had really hoped you had them.”

    Chase grips the phone tightly. If he wasn’t angry before, he sure as hell was now. What was Stacy _thinking_ , leaving the kids all alone at home? Without some sort of babysitter? He could ignore the fact that she thought him capable of kidnapping his own kids - it was insulting, and it stung, but he was more concerned that she let this scenario happen in the first place.

    For a moment, he really did hate her.

    She probably saw the anger flare in his eyes, but before she could respond, it cooled.

    Chase sighed. “Look, I’ll contact Jackie and the others; I’m sure they’d be willing to help. We’ll search around town and I’ll update you later. Just - please let me know if you find them.”

    Her lips pressed into a thin line and she nodded.

* * *

 

    Soon enough he was pacing the living room, hitting Jackie’s contact. After the fourth (or maybe the fourteenth) time he hit a dial-tone, he finally admitted to himself that Jackie must be on duty.

    His brother didn’t have a texting function on his work phone, in order to avoid incriminating data from leaking, or impersonations via text.

    He scrolled through his contacts - mostly his brothers, crew, and a few doctors. He knew Jack wasn’t in town, and Schneep has a shift. As much as he would appreciate JJ’s help, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do much. And Robbie was on the bottom of the list, though not by unkind means. His skills were just . . .elsewhere.

    Like gardening.

    Man, that kid was good at gardening.

    So, in the end, that left Marvin.

    Which Chase trusted him to an absolute high degree. He was just worried about wayward magic affecting his kids.

    But, well, desperate times called for desperate measures.

    He had just hit call, when his whole screen froze, glitching wildly.

    His heart stopped.

    And then there was a knock at the door.

    Every instinct of Chase’s was screaming to ignore it; hop out the window while he could. But he knew how fast the Glitch could be, phasing through walls.

why wasn’t he?

    The knock came again, slightly louder. Almost insistent. Whole body shaking on adrenaline from the whole ordeal with his kids, and terror at the current predicament, he opened to door.

    The sight that greeted him was. . .unexpected.

    Anti stood there, gritting his teeth and breathing heavily. There was blood soaking down the leg of his pants, and - _oh god that was a bullet wound in his thigh_ \- his form was more corporeal than usual. Even his neck wound wasn’t as torn, the blood almost looking like gel.

    His eyed flashed dangerously, but when he saw Chase there, he grinned devilishly. “ _Well well well, you actually answered, Brody_.”

    Chase swallowed, his throat tight. But the pressing matters of his missing kids gave him some boldness, and he grit out, “What do you want, Glitch?”

    Anti frowned, and while it did give Chase a chill, it wasn’t nearly as malicious as when he had attacked Jack. “ _Now, is that any way to spaek tah someone who’s helped you_?”

    Chase actually snorted. “Helped me? When the hell have you ever _helped_ me?”

    “ _Don’t be so indignant ya bį—h. After all_ ,” Anti tried to stand taller, face smug. “ _I just saeved yer kids_.”

    Chase gripped the door so tightly, he could feel his fingers growing cold. It - it had to be a trick. He couldn’t have - he _wouldn’t_ have- 

    “ _I sent them home, if ye’re wondering. Now, how about letting me in before I effin’ bleed tah death_?” He growled.

    Chase’s phone buzzes.

    **Stacy 11:45am**

  _Kids are safe, police found them walking home_  

     Against his better judgement, Chase steps back and holds the door open.

* * *

 

    There’s a trail of blood from where Anti dragged his leg, hobbling into the apartment. The glitch sets himself leaning against a wall, arms crossed and watching Chase with a calculated look.

    Chase makes a pot of coffee, and, after getting a cup for himself, reluctantly gets one for Anti. The glitch is practically smirking as Chase goes to set it down, as if Anti is a wild animal about to lash out at any moment. He wouldn’t be wrong.

    After Chase sits down, Anti slumps into the opposite chair; it’s a modest table, with two fold-out chairs. Anti scratches at the wood, tilting his head curiously.

    It’s startling how much he looks like Jack at this moment; face, when not angry, holding the same slack expression. His hair is the same brown, same cut (though Chase isn’t sure whether it’s from choice or not.) The only startling difference is the vivid green eyes, slit throat dribbling blood, and subtle glitching.

    There’s something both disquieting and bewildering in having Anti in his apartment acting, well, civil.

    As if sending his thoughts, Anti grins disarmingly. 

    Chase swallows thickly. Steeling his nerves, he asks, “Why’d you save my kids?”

    Earlier, he had seen the news article; a well-known pedophile found dead, carved up distinctly in a way that Chase is familiar with. It’s not hard to recognize Anti’s handiwork - it’s as recognizable as each of his brothers’ handwriting.

    And the kids had arrived home safely. 

    Even if Anti had orchestrated the whole thing, why would he? It’s not his style - so that could only mean that he really _had_ saved Brianna and Grey.

    Anti’s smile twitches, but doesn’t drop. “ _Why not? We’re brothers.  .  . aern’t we_?”

    Chase chokes.

    Anti continues. “ _Jack maed all of us - that means we’re all brothers, doesn’t it?_ ”

    “But you hurt Schneep! And Jack!” Chase exclaims.

    “ _Who maed me the bad guy?_ ” Anti retorts. He was tense, clutched his mug in clawed hands. Suddenly, he relaxes. “ _Not that I resent it. I’ve just decided that I like you bett’r than the others_.”

    Now _that_ Chase found hard to believe.

    Anti’s grin stretched wide.

   Suddenly, he pushed the coffee cup away and stretched, vertabrae popping. He stood, hands on the table, and looking at Chase intently.

    “ _Much as I enjoy our chat, I **am** here for a reason. And, like I saed, brothers help each other . . .right_?”

    


	2. ‘I am the violence’ ((unfinished))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((EDIT: For the time being this is going to be unfinished; hopefully I can go back and touch this up. Sorry for the inconvenience!!))
> 
> Sorry about the delay ,:D not gonna lie, I thought about abandoning this story, but felt that wouldn’t be fair to you guys. It was planned to be a two-shot, but I may leave the needing more open/ambiguous for future parts maybe?
> 
> Chapter title is a line from the aforementioned song.

    “. . .Chase?”

    It’s surprised. His blue eyes wide and confused beneath the mask, flicking from Chase down to the gun cocked in his hands.

    “What’s going on?”

* * *

_about three months earlier_

  Anti left after that without much more explanation (and without getting his wound tended to), just promising he’d visit again. It left Chase beyond baffled.

   The next time Anti came back was almost a week later. Chase came home after getting the courage to shop for himself, only to find Anti lounging on his couch and watching tv.

   Not messing with TV static (though Chase would find out later that he did do that when bored), but actually _watching_ tv.

    “The hell,” he couldn’t help but mutter.

    “ _Your cable is shį-_ ,” Anti grumbled.

    “What are you doing here?”

    “ _Isn’t it obvious? I’m bored_.”

     Chase choked down a garbled whine. What the hell was his life coming to?

    He contemplated calling one of the others; he really did. But honestly? The thought made him guilty. After all - Anti _had_ saved his kids.

    So, he decides to just. . .ignore him.

    It goes well for all of five minutes, while he’s placing the groceries in their proper places.

    “ _Why the fū## would you buy soy bean paste?_ ”

    Chase jumps, nearly dropping his celery. He turns to glare at Anti, who’s leaning on the counter and turning a tub over with disgust.

    The YouTuber merely goes back to work, grunting, “It’s for a recipe Bri likes; want to make sure I still know how to make it.”

    Anti doesn’t ask further, and part of Chase is grateful; so many people pry and then treat him like a porcelain figure straight after, as if the mere question will be the final crack that shatters him, though they can’t help asking because of their damned curiosity.

    He knows it’s just because they’re concerned for him; they care. 

He. . .really should apologize to Schneep, about that.

    But just as Anti doesn’t have the grace - that or he lacks a filter - he suddenly says, “ _So I know why the bįtč# left ‘em._ ”

    This time, Chase stills. In the bizarre turn of events, he had forgotten all about her. He merely had focused on his worry for the kids, and Anti’s strange behavior. But _now_ , now he felt an itch of curiosity, tinged with anger clawing it’s way out of his skull. It came out in the form of a simple question. “. . .why?”

     Anti looked at him, eyes narrowed (the face may be Jack’s but the expressions rarely were.) He seemed like he was calculating if he should or not. “ _She went to the doctor’s with mister lamp post_.”

    “What could be so important about going to the doctor’ that she couldn’t get a babysitter,” he huffed, slamming the cheese drawer. 

    Anti grinned dis alarmingly. “ _A maternity doctor yah effin’ idiot. Looks like tall and ugly are havin’ a kid. Probably rushed out tah git confirmation or somet’ing_.”

    Chase’s mouth suddenly tasted bitter at the news. It wasn’t that Stacy had moved on - he had actually overcome that quite awhile ago - nor that she was having a kid. It was that she hadn’t thought to inform him of this news, or what it might mean for his two kids.

    He struggled to swallow. “Okay.”

    “ _Thāt’š įt?_ ” Anti’s voiced glitched heavily in surprise.

    Chase tensed, then sagged his shoulders. “I’m pissed, okay? Beyond pissed - I don’t care how exciting or sudden the news was, she should have gotten someone to watch the kids. Just, someone, anyone. Hell, I’d even have been okay with it being her cousin Charlie, despite how irresponsible he is! But. . .there’s not much to do about it now. So there’s no point in blowing up about it.”

    Anti seemed to let it go. “ _If ye’re sure_.”

     Anti didn’t show up again for almost two days and Chase found himself on edge about it. He knew Anti wanted _something_ from him, but what, he didn’t know.

    Tom, surprisingly, called him the next day. Chase wouldn’t say they were on friendly terms, but the previous bitterness had been mostly one-sided, back when he had still been hurt over the divorce. Tom has been apathetic and disinterested.

     But he sounded nothing but genuinely remorseful, apologizing and explaining why the kids had been left alone; they knew that Stacy had been feeling sicker the last few months, and her menstruel cycle had been wrong, so they had rushed to the doctors when they got the call, fearful it had been something like cancer. Not wanting the kids to potential hear such awful news, they had left them at home. And, getting such wonderful news, had rushed back home just as soon, only to find the kids missing.

    He was firm in admitting that they were in the wrong (something that Stacy would never do), and he wanted to apologize for endangering the kids. 

    Chase accepted the apology, and it was easier than he had expected. Maybe, just maybe things would get smoother with time.

    By time he hung up, his usual cloud was somewhat lighter.

* * *

 

     Then everything changed in the next five hours.

* * *

 

     “ _Look, Brody; help or don’t. But I **need** you_.”

* * *

 

    He’s never shot someone before. Painting the walls in grime and gore. His hands were shaking and he was hyperventilating, pupils shrunken.

    His brother stood next to him, teeth glinting as he growled through a grin in the semi-darkness.

    “ _Good effing riddance, ya bastard_.”

* * *

      _Months later_

    Chase woke to his phone buzzing.

     He looked up groggily, and then groaned, rubbing at his eyes.  It was still dark out, he knew. And there was only one person who would get him up this early.

 

**Author's Note:**

> QOTP: Every played Mario Kart? Who’s your preferred character to play?
> 
> My A: Yes! On Gameboy, Wii, and now Switch. I like Yoshi best :3.


End file.
